"This Rogue Trader dynasty is very bold. In the Ultima Segmentum, it trades with xenos and heretics thanks to a trade charter granted by Roboute Guilliman. Such an organization must wield considerable influence despite its small size," he said, sharing his conjectures.
Faced with this situation, the other two did not know how to decide; the risk was indeed quite high for their group.
However, it was clear that waiting for the Dark Mechanicus was even riskier.
They were too exposed.
The group would not survive a clash with another warband without disastrous consequences.
The duo of veteran Astartes could not agree on an opinion to give their leader. Thus, the much-desired help never came.
"Did I ask too much?" he thought while watching the frigate's captain and the tactical squad leader argue over the course of action.
Atreus had already noticed a serious problem within his warband after fully establishing it.
A lack of members capable of taking initiative and showing open-mindedness.
As former Space Marines under the Imperium, it was logical for them to be locked into a structured mindset for war.
Nevertheless, this aspect had to change.
Atreus did not want too many mortals in his inner circle of command, because they would perish within a century.
Time was not kind to them. Thus, he had to raise company leaders capable of managing wars and systems by themselves.
"The task ahead is difficult," he concluded mentally.
Atreus decided to help them choose.
An Astartes must not be indispensable to the proper functioning of his future Legion, to avoid a scenario similar to the events that occurred after Horus's death.
The idea of perishing while failing displeased him.
Finally, Atreus spoke:
"The danger is real, but so what? Haha," he said, letting out a bitter little laugh.
"We are Astartes!" he continued, his tone energetic to affirm their nature.
"To become a warband and reach the Limnos III system, we have already sacrificed so much," he declared, then turned to observe the stars from the frigate's bridge.
A glimmer of sadness was visible in his eyes, even though they usually burned with ambition when looking at the celestial spectacle of the universe.
In the past, he would have simply been moved by the beauty of the stars.
But that was in the past.
Atreus was no longer a Terran.
He was an Astartes.
These hands had been stained with the blood of brothers from other times, as well as innocents.
The former young man knew it and accepted it.
He was not a hypocrite.
"My brothers…" he let out, slowly clenching his fists.
The longer time passed, the tighter he squeezed.
The Space Marine's fists made his power armor creak, and warnings appeared on his interface.
But he did not care at the moment.
The man from the 21st century spoke from his heart.
"I don't want to be here…" he told them honestly.
"You shouldn't be here either," he continued, taking a breath and then exhaling.
This action relaxed him a little.
"Nevertheless, this galaxy leaves us no choice."
"Frankly… I don't want this present, and even less the future that follows. However, if we fall…" Atreus turned and looked at each of the two Space Marines.
"Then our aspirations, our dreams, our ambitions, our ideals, and many other possibilities will die with us," Atreus released his clenched fist.
Yet, with a sudden movement, he struck and destroyed the steel meeting table.
Bam.
The sound of the fist hitting the metal table drew the attention of the Iron Warriors outside the room, who witnessed the destruction of the huge meeting table.
Unlike their lost expressions, Anthony and Barnabas paid no attention to the destroyed object.
Their veteran eyes were fixed on Atreus.
"I tell you, my brothers: do not hesitate to refuse to perish if you judge my orders inappropriate, or if I become like the Corpse-Emperor, considering your lives as disposable," Atreus looked at every Space Marine present.
"Nevertheless, I beg you here and now," the Iron Warrior bowed before his subordinates.
"Please accept to try… to try another path, a path leading to the fulfillment of our common claims and ambitions. A path that does not lead only to eternal war, but to so much more.
If you agree, then accept to take risks, entrust your lives to this being of iron here to bear your fears, your ambitions, and your desires… only then will there exist even an atom of hope for our Iron Warriors to transcend the state of a mere piece of metal. So I will ask you once again, as I did before… bet on me and set course for that damned Rogue Trader…" he finished, observing the Space Marines on the bridge.
Bam.
Bam.
The transhumans struck their chests against their power armor before kneeling before their lord.
"Rise, Lord of Steel!" roared Barabas as he lifted him from his bowed position.
"I, Barabas of the Iron Warriors, have already dedicated my life and honor to this lord. You do not need to ask again," he said with a smile.
"He's right. We're all ready to follow you in your madness. Even if we only know war, you see in us something more than weapons… we want to be that, right guys!!!" declared Anthony while looking at the kneeling Space Marines.
"Affirmative!" they replied.
At that moment, the warband was no longer simply a heterogeneous group gathered by Atreus, nor mere Space Marines.
They had become something the Emperor had once forgotten, and that a "soldier" had reminded him of against Horus.
The human spirit never bows.
"Indeed, even with my knowledge of this galaxy and the power of Trust, I cannot guarantee to bring them anything other than war and the despair of knowing where their corpses will remain after each campaign against our enemies… only death is a guarantee that can be offered. However, I want to try… if I can give them even one second of happiness… then countless sacrifices will not have been wasted," he thought while striking his chest to return the salute of his men.
At that instant, the image of an angel on Terra came back to his mind.
(Image)
"Did you also understand this, Angel of Baal?" he muttered as he returned to the command position.
Atreus understood Sanguinius's words:
[Once the Sanctum falls, Terra will fall with it. And I tell you: we cannot hold this wall. You can see it yourselves — they are too many, we are too few. We might hold for a week if we accomplish the impossible. More likely, we will all be dead in three days. Perhaps my words surprise you. Or frighten you. But I will not lie. Not to myself, nor to you who have endured two hundred days of horror to find yourselves here.
"I have looked at your faces and seen what this war has cost you. I have followed the thread of the battles each of you has survived to reach this point. I see everything you have endured, written in the light of your eyes. And now, the Warmaster offers you the lie of life, promising clemency that his forces are incapable of offering if we abandon this last wall. And it falls to me, here and now, to tell you to resist him once more. To give everything, even your lives, if it can hold this rampart one more day, one more hour, one more second. Is that not what this moment demands of me? That I beg you to make one final sacrifice?"]
Sanguinius advanced closer to the rampart, throwing his sword onto the stone. It rang as it hit the ground among a group of Blood Angels who dared not pick it up. He then turned toward the wall, showing his bare hands to the thousands gathered.
"No," he breathed.
His wings beat strongly to keep him aloft. He stared into the silence that followed and shook his head.
"No. I will not ask it of you. You have already given everything. You have already done everything asked of you, a hundred times and more. You have suffered a war of unimaginable darkness. The fact that you are still alive, that you continue to fight… I cannot conceive the courage it requires."]
Watching all these men resolved to follow him in his mad plan, Atreus felt the burden of command lighten.
And beyond the relief, he also understood something important at that moment.
Raw power would certainly not be enough.
He needed to offer hope to the human heart.